Spelunking
by glishara
Summary: Miles, Ivan, and Elena go on a childhood adventure in the Dendarii foothills.


"Keep up, Ensigns!" Miles bellowed as he galumphed down the gorge. The impact of each lopsided footfall on the gravel underfoot shook him with a subdued recognition of ignorable pain: ignorable, still. He pushed it down.

"Miles! You're going to break something!" Elena ran behind him desperately. Long-legged, without the awkwardness of most early adolescents, she was gaining on him, but he had enough of a head start to make it down the slope before she could catch up.

He turned to watch, grinning, as she and Ivan finally closed the gap. Her dark hair swept around her face in the wind, and Ivan, satisfyingly, looked to be out of breath. "I said to keep up!" he said. "Pushups, ensigns!"

At Ivan's glower, he abandoned the idea of punishment duty and gestured instead to their target, the mouth of the cave near the mouth of the gorge. "Lady and gentleman," he pronounced, "The Unknown."

Ivan craned his neck to peer at the forbidding rocks near the mouth of it. "It smells funny," he said dubiously. Miles groaned inwardly. No imagination, that was Ivan's problem.

"That smell," he declaimed grandly, sweeping his arm again to reemphasize the point, "is the smell of destiny!"

Elena's gaze was more skeptical. "I smell something, all right," she muttered. "Miles, we're supposed to be keeping you out of trouble. Your mother said, 'Watch him, Elena. Ivan, stop him from doing anything stupid."

"Well," Miles said, beaming effusive innocence, "you can't watch me from out here." He ducked into the cave. Ivan made a futile grab at him arm.

"Miles!" he bellowed. Miles grinned back over his shoulder. "I'm going deeper in! If you stay here, you'll just fall behind again."

Ivan cursed loudly, then, a moment later, offered a sheepish, "Sorry, Elena."

The cave floor was littered with stalagmites jutting up and stalactites lancing down. The going was somewhat treacherous; the rock floor was uneven, scored with long gullies and ridges. A misstep could snap a brittle ankle bone, so Miles placed his feet carefully, running the light from the hand-lamp across the ground.

"You're insane," Elena hissed, appearing at his ear. She glanced nervously around the cave. Miles turned to grin up at her. Ivan was a bit further back; it looked like each step was costing him something.

"You have no sense of adventure," Miles lamented.

"No, I had it surgically replaced with common sense!" She glanced back over her shoulder at Ivan, who seemed to be operating under the belief that if he could move forward slowly enough, he would find himself going backwards out of the cave.

"Scared, Ivan?" Miles taunted.

Ivan bristled. "No!"

"You look scared," Miles countered rationally. "You're kind of pale, and you're standing way back there."

Ivan glowered at him, then strode forward, ahead of Miles, deeper into the cave. Miles hid a self-satisfied smirk. Ivan was easy. Elena, still eying him, was harder. "Come on," he whispered to her. "You don't want Ivan and me to have all the fun."

And then, manna from heaven, Ivan's voice bounced up the walls to them. "Whoa!" Miles and Elena exchanged looks, and then Elena ran into the tunnel, leaving Miles to lump unevenly after her. He nearly slammed into her as he rounded the final turn, and sidestepped to peer around her tall form.

It was glorious. Dusty stacks of boxes, scattered power packs across the floor of the cave, racks of weapons, and there – there, in the center of the cave, like a monument to the battle-scarred Dendarii countryside – a tank.

"…wow," Elena said finally. "It's…"

"It's incredible!" Ivan said, his face alight with awe.

Miles studied it speculatively. "You think it still works?"

Both heads swiveled to him. "Miles!" Elena said, aghast.

"Really," Miles said sensibly, "there's no reason it shouldn't, right?" He approached it as he spoke, touching the cool metal with one hand. He shone his light up at the ceiling. "It's safe in here. Protected from the rain. Here, Ivan, give me a boost."

"Ivan, don't you dare!" Elena's hand closed on Miles's wrist. Miles grinned up at her without a trace of repentance. She glowered back. "Lady Vorkosigan will kill us!" she hissed at him.

"Nonsense," Miles said briskly. "My mother is too Betan for that. She'd just give you a talking-to."

"Same thing," Ivan said, approaching the tank cautiously. He lifted a hand to touch it.

Miles exulted internally. Hooked him! He turned the reel gingerly. "It would almost be worth it, though," he prodded scientifically. "When else will you have the chance to drive one of these?"

Ivan wavered. Miles pushed. "If you're afraid, we can go tell my father. I bet they'd have people combing over these hills in a couple of days."

"I'm not afraid!"

Ha! Victory! Miles savored the thrill of triumph as he said, "Boost me up, then! And you can get the next ride." Elena, relegated to last, looked less annoyed than wary. Miles ignored her expression, eloquently pleading caution, and accepted a leg up from Ivan.

The hatch opened more easily than he'd expected, and he dropped in. Ivan yelped from outside. Miles had taken the hand-lamp with him. Ignoring their shouts, he shone the light around the cramped compartment.

It was beautiful. Small, yes, but soundly built. The instrument panel was dark and muted. Miles stepped over to it, scanning it for the power controls.

His grandfather had taught him to steer a lightflyer a few years ago, and he applied his understanding of that to what he saw now. His fingers trailed over the surface, and then speared at a likely switch. Nothing happened. Miles frowned, and flicked it off again.

Ah, well, he couldn't damage the thing if it wasn't powered up, right? He flicked switches with abandon, pushed buttons, fiddled with levers. The tank hunkered sullenly around him, refusing to start up.

It wasn't until he dropped to his knees, peering under the panel, that he saw the knob. Aha. He pulled it. The cabin lit up; the tank thrummed its menace in the air around him. Outside, Elena shrieked. The sound bounced hollow around the compartment. "Ha!" Miles cried his exultation.

He swam up the ladder and poked his head – and the hand-lamp – out the hatch. "Come on!" he commanded. "It's working! There's room for all of us in here!"

Ivan didn't need much prompting, but Elena was keeping her feet firmly on the ground. "I don't know if this is such a good idea!" Her tone suggested that she did know, quite definitely, and a good idea was exactly what it was not. Miles grinned down at her.

"When are you going to get this chance again?" he asked. "Fifteen minutes, and then we'll go get my grandfather. He'll love this place! It will be something from the past for him!"

Elena hesitated, and Miles let his grin turn plaintive. "When am I going to get to do this again?" he asked plaintively, and saw her yield.

"Fifteen minutes," she warned, climbing the tank more cautiously than Ivan had. Miles dropped back inside.

Ivan claimed a gun turret, but Elena hovered behind Miles. He stared up at the slit that allowed a view of the world outside – a good foot above the top of his head. "This could be problematic," he said.

Ivan laughed from his roost. "Just guess!" he called down. "I'll let you know if you're going the wrong way."

"No!" Elena said desperately. "I'll steer, Miles."

Miles grinned up at her, irrepressible. "You can navigate for me," he said. "Forward!" He throttled the vehicle up, and the rumbling turned to momentum. Ivan let out a whoop.

It felt amazing. All that raw power, under his control… it was like being on a horse, but squared, cubed. His heart was thumping in his chest.

"Miles, left!" Miles blinked up at Elena, and then wrenched the stick to the left; the tank's momentum shifted in a slow turn.

"Hey, do you two think the guns still work?"

The gun tower was already swiveling to Ivan's command. Elena's head whipped around, her hair lashing out around her. "Ivan, don't you dare!"

Miles pushed the throttle forward, feeling the thrum of the metal pick up.

"What's the point of riding in a tank if you can't shoot anything?" Ivan demanded.

"We're twelve! You're not allowed to shoot things when you're twelve."

"Lord Vorkosigan did at eleven!"

"There was a war then!"

Tank met wall. There was a banshee shriek of twisting metal, grating against stone, and the menacing crack as the stone itself began to yield. The thunderous echo of stone on stone boomed at the stalactite ripped free and slammed to the ground.

The three of them were frozen in the answering silence, louder than sound, their ears ringing in answering percussion. Finally, Ivan's seat creaked a protest to his uneasy shift. Miles exhaled.

And then the thunder began again. For an instant, no one said anything, and then Miles shouted, "Out! Out! Everyone out now!"

Ivan leapt down from his turret, swinging up and out of the hatch first. Elena was hanging back, though, waiting for Miles. "Go!" he said.

"I'm not going without you!"

Miles cursed inwardly, but there was no time to argue. He clambered up the ladder and into the choking dust of the cave, Elena rattling the ladder behind him.

Ivan was already out of sight, and rocks were rattling down from the ceiling, smacking Miles' head and shoulders. He ducked them forward and ran, his stumbling gait slowing him unconscionably. Elena was right behind him; Elena was holding herself back.

"Go!" he yelled at her.

She didn't respond, just ran, behind him still. The ceiling groaned. The light was ahead of them now, and they were in the open air. They didn't stop, sprinting across the uneven dirt, pebbles skittering away under their feet.

The crash was deafening. Rock slid and slammed against the foot of the gorge, tumbling in a tumultuous landslide. Elena slammed Miles to the ground, curling around him. It seemed to last forever: the earth shook; the falling rocks echoed and reechoed.

Finally, it was over. Elena unpeeled from around Miles and sat up shakily. Her black hair was gray with rock dust. Miles peered over at the cave, which had disappeared below a new slope of loose rock. Ivan reappeared from a hundred yards away, venturing around the rock which had sheltered him. No one spoke for a long minute.

"Well," said Miles at last, his tone hopeful. "I, ah, suppose we don't have to tell my grandfather about this after all, then?"

Elena stared at him, disbelief eloquent on her face. "I am never speaking to you again," she said.

Ivan grinned at him as she stalked away. "Real way with the ladies," he said jauntily.

Miles grinned back. "She'll get over it," he said jauntily, clambering to his feet.

As they set their path after her, walking companionably, a thought occurred to Miles. He turned to Ivan.

"You don't think she'll tell her father, do you?"


End file.
